


In Which Peter Questions Everything Because of Deadpool (But really, when is it not Deadpool's fault)

by StarsWithHiddenFires



Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Deadpool being Deadpool, Deadpool does what he wants, Gen, deadpool knows not of said fourth wall, he doesn't need to question everything right now, okay?, peter just wants to patrol in peace, very much breaking of the fourth wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsWithHiddenFires/pseuds/StarsWithHiddenFires
Summary: Deadpool cocked his head, muttered under his breath for a suspiciously long time (it sounded like a debate, but Peter didn’t want to go in to that territory just yet), then nodded decisively.  “Yup, it’s time to tell him.”Peter squinted harder, and even raised an eyebrow.  He really didn't need this right now.





	In Which Peter Questions Everything Because of Deadpool (But really, when is it not Deadpool's fault)

**Author's Note:**

> what is this? you might ask  
> to which i would reply  
> I have absolutely no clue. I blame all the fanfiction i have read recently. I have no idea what universe it's in, prossibably (possibly/probably) the Amazing Spider-Man one.   
> Apologies if I've not characterized either of them correctly at all ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I've read some of the comics, not many though, and I haven't seen the Deadpool movie yet.   
> Also sorry if there are a lot of typos and messed up parts, I rarely proof-read (read at your own risk)

“Spidey, did you know we’re just fictional characters?” Peter jumped at the loud question, already groaning as he turned around to face the one person that could sneak up on him (other than the Black Widow, but seriously, who could she _not_ sneak up on.  She had mad skills.).  Deadpool was bouncing excitedly on the rooftop next to Peter.

Peter squinted at him.  “Fictional characters?” 

Deadpool cocked his head, muttered under his breath for a suspiciously long time (it sounded like a debate, but Peter didn’t want to go in to that territory just yet), then nodded decisively.  “Yup, it’s time to tell him.”

Peter squinted harder, and even raised an eyebrow.  He really didn't need this right now.  “Tell who?”

“Well look, we’re fictional characters, obviously.  I mean, come on, how unrealistic is it that you periodically fight bad guys? And _win_? Sure, you’re a superhuman and genetically altered and yadayadayada blah blah, you have spider-senses and crap, and you’re strong and stuff. But did you ever do anything sporty before? Ever fight—and actually win, Spidey boy, I know your origin story—stories, really.  Which one is this universe again? I’m pretty sure it’s one of the movies, I feel very Ryan Reynolds-ish.  Was your love interest Emma Stone or do you look like Tobey MacGuire?” Deadpool fell silent at this question, then muttered, “Oh don’t tell me this is the Marvel one.  I’d have to keep everything PG-13.  Look, I _know_ that, Yellow, thanks for nothing.”

Peter legitimately had no idea what to say.  Should he prompt the merc to keep talking? Should he seek psychiatric help? Should he just give up and leave and never come back to New York, because apparently he was _actually considering wanting to hear the rest of what Deadpool had to say?_

Before his internal crisis could resolve itself into a solution, Deadpool whacked his head (and hard, from the sound of it), then continued.  “Anyways.  No matter what your origin story, how likely is it that you automatically can fight off the bad guys? That no one has noticed your voice sounds the same in costume as out?  Don’t worry, Spidey!” he quickly added with a large grin Peter was sure would be blinding, if he could actually see it instead of just the mask. “I don’t know your super-secret-spidey-self.  Yay for alliteration! Anywho, back to the point (I know I had one White, and Yellow don’t distract me.  Spidey does that enough himself). We’re fictional characters!  Well, technically, we’re fictional versions of fictional characters in a fanfiction, being written by a writer who’s such a procrastinator they’re procrastinating their lunch. Who even _does_ that? Food is bae.  But anyways, couldn’t you tell we’re not ‘real people?”

“I’m still stuck on you using a word like periodically.” Peter responded, distantly noting he sounded way, _way_ out of it.

“Harrumph!” Deadpool responded, crossing his arms and stomping, like the child he was. “’Cmon, aren’t you supposed to be super smart? I’m 95% sure that’s a canonical thing that remains constant through all the universes. Don’t play dumb and make me explain everything for you, the readers would be _booooooooooooooored_.  And that’s just a new low for us, I can’t be boring! Even though you’re definitely a nerd and probably have a nerdy life outside of your snazzy spandex—and may I say, I like the revamp, quite nice, but yeah, no can do on the boring, that’s too OOC for me.  OOC is never fun in a fanfic, Spidey.  Never.”

Peter raised an eyebrow again, even though the gesture was lost on everyone.  Everyone being Deadpool.  The tragedy of masks!  “But, if we hypothetically say this is _possibly_ true, couldn’t that mean that the other people aren’t real? That our universe is the real one? What if the other one is the one that has fanfictions being written about it, and ours is actually the real one?”  He knew his voice was getting more and more hysterical and louder and louder as he spoke, but he couldn’t help himself, okay?  He was about to start finals (finals! The worst f-word), he was waiting on news back from multiple internships, his refrigerator had like, two water-bottles and maybe an apple, maybe; his job was stressful and there were a bunch of things and he was stressed, okay?  He didn’t need to start questioning his existence and the possible existence of other universes too. His head felt like it was being squished—it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he was gripping his head in panic.

“See look, this is totally a fanfic, because you just spent like 5 minutes thinking and freaking out and I didn’t say anything???? Can you hear those question marks???? Like, okay but for realsies, how long do people think in their mental soliloquies (woAHh a BiG wORd, weird capitalization and all)? Do other people just let them think while they have the flashbacks/random thoughts/realizations/etc.? And plus, hEY _I’M_ the one that breaks the fourth wall.  Not cool man.  You’ve got your stuff, I’ve got mine.”

Peter still didn’t look up, and was seriously considering moving to Hawaii or the Bahamas or Malta or somewhere on an island.  Anywhere but New York.  He didn’t notice Deadpool had stopped yammering until he felt a finger poke him in the shoulder. 

“Spidey? Please don’t tell me I broke you.  I know ‘if you break it you buy it’” (Peter could _feel_ the force of the air quotes) “but I don’t have enough money to buy your franchise.  I’m rich, but not _that_ rich. (Also, I know right White—hAH that rhymed—so many italics).”

Peter exhaled sharply, swatting away Deadpool’s second attempt to poke him. “Okay, nope, I’m not ever going down that mental path again. Ever.  I will be happy to smile and nod whenever you start blabbering about other universes and fourth walls and stuff, but nope.  Never again, Wade.  My brain can’t handle it.” (Yes, the situation was serious enough to pull out Deadpool's name.)

Deadpool shrugged, hands held out to the side.  He looked like that shruggy-thingy fa—“Do I look like that shruggy-thingy face? I’m really trying, but I can’t tell if I’ve got my hands at the right angle,” Deadpool said.

“You look great,” Peter responded, rubbing his hand over his head.  It really wasn’t the same effect as running his hands through his hair.  Drat. 

“Yay!!!!  That’s one of my faves.  Do you want food?  There’s a really good shwarma place—okay, I know why old Iron-Can wanted to go there after almost dying, it’s amazing—right by us, _buuuuuuuuutt_ (heh) I also really want Mexican.  Like always.  I mean it’s basically in every fanfic.  It’s not a fanfiction with me in it unless I mention Mexican food and my love for it, second only to you.  Whaddya want, Spider-bro?”

Peter sighed, facepalmed—legitimately facepalmed, then muttered out a tired, “Mexican.” The whoop that ensued from Deadpool set off most of the pigeons in a 20-meter radius—more impressive than it sounds.  They were, after all, New York City pigeons.

Deadpool hopped on Peter’s back like an overgrown koala.  “Off to the glorious food my awesome arachnid spider-dude!”  Peter sighed again, but dutifully lept off the building, webbing away to the nearest Mexican restaurant that wouldn’t refuse to serve Deadpool.

“Wheeeee! This is fun, swinging like Tarzan. I wonder how many mistakes you made when you first started out webbing around.  I bet a bunch.  Dya have any gag reels?  I mean I’d offer to show you mine (there’s an innuendo there but the writer-person won’t let me say it, rude), but I mean my whole life’s basically a running gag.  I can feel the writer glaring at me! They want their food too, but Imma keep talking because this was utter trash and I had to suffer through it, first hand!  So no food just yeEEEEEEEEAAAHHHH—”Peter quickly webbed over Deadpool’s mask, in the general area of his mouth before shooting out a web just before they went splat.  If he happened to also get it all over Deadpool’s face, blocking his eyesight a bit?  Well, he would just use freefalling for a bit as an excuse. 

“Now, let’s go eat, and we can let this hypothetical writer-person eat, too. Not letting others eat is a bit low, even for you, Deadpool.” Peter could feel Deadpool giggling on his back like the maniac he was, and trying to speak, but all that came out were muffled but gleeful sounds. The sight of the Mexican restaurant cheered him greatly ( _okay now you sound like Thor, maybe try chilling my dude_ , came his thoughts.  Aaand great, now he was talking to himself. He hoped the tacos would help. Judging by the ecstatic noises coming from Deadpool, they would definitely help _him_. 

He landed on the roof, and the moment Deadpool hopped off the merc sent a large and exaggerated wink and thumbs up to the sky.  Strange. 

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
